Grizabellah
by Chadam
Summary: A remarkable Altmer from uncertain beginnings finds her place in the harsh world of Skyrim. She rises above expectation and disability to find her place in the Alpha wolf's pack, but not before losing someone who means the world to her.


It was raining in Alinor the night I was born, though I am told that there were no clouds in the cold Morning Star sky. As I took my first breath, my mother took her last; a complication of my physical shape. By blood I am an Altmer, but by appearance I am less. My left arm reaches to the floor when I stand. The palm of my hand can easily brush my knee. My fingers are long and thin, but they are tipped with claws much longer, and much sharper, than that of any Khajiit. I am told that I tore my dear mother to pieces.

The High Elves only exist because of such selective breeding. An abomination such as myself was seen as an affront to Auri-El, and an enemy of Stendaar's mercy. A babe born with a condition such as myself has one destiny in life, and that is to be cast into the river. This would have been my fate if it were not for the actions of one.

My brother Ohpuis was my hero. He plucked me from my mother's belly and stole away with me into the night. We came to live in the city of Dusk where my brother had come into possession of a small farm just beyond its outskirts. He protected me from the stares and slurs of strangers, played with me when I was lonely and, as I grew to be an adult, he became my only friend. While he raised and provided for me, our relationship was typical of a brother and sister.

One day after I had reached womanhood, my brother returned to the house, a look of excitement in his eyes. He told me that he had been given an opportunity to serve all of our kind, and that he was to help eradicate great evils from across the lands. I was, at first, excited about the prospect. My brother would no longer have to farm the land for a living. We would surely have more food, and nicer things. I was less thrilled when I learned that we were destined for the foreign land of Skyrim.

He gave me the choice of course. I could stay and he would sign the farm over to me, but I could not bear to be separated from my dear brother. We packed our things, and were sent along with many other High Elven men and women to the icy land of the Nords.

I remember the first step I took on Skyrim's shore. It was late evening; clouds littered the pale red sky. I shivered under my furs as my brother slid an arm around my shoulders, a grin on his face. I kept my arm slung firmly around my waist as I stared up at the massive walled city set high on a mountain top. Its sprawling walls dominated the horizon and large pulpits could be seen through the clouds. My eyes followed the walls along until they met with the silhouette of a vast palace.

"Welcome to Solitude, little sister," my brother said with a laugh as we followed the others up the wooden steps of the docks.

Solitude - a beautiful place but not to my taste. We explored the city for a few hours, taking in the sights of the Blue Palace and drinking our first taste of Nord mead in the Winking Skeever. I was puzzled by the disdainful looks cast upon us by the local Nords. I was sure my arm was out of sight, so their looks of hatred and mistrust must have been directed upon us for another reason. At the time I was young and naive. My brother however paid no mind to the glares, and instead enjoyed himself by flirting with the local girls.

A group of Altmer, all dressed in black robes, entered the tavern and told us all to report to the front gate for transportation to the Embassy. I quietly followed my brother out of the city's walls and climbed obediently onto the back of the cart.

The Thalmor Embassy was a stuffy place full of rules, regulation and manners. Something that myself, as a poor farm girl, knew very little of. Regardless, I quickly fell into routine and found myself enjoying life at the Embassy. I was assigned to the kitchens and placed as the ward of a kind Khajiit lady named Tsavani.

Tsavani understood what it felt like to be an outsider, and made no fuss about my arm. My worth to her was proven by my actions, and I was a damn good cook. She taught me all about Breton cuisine, a topic in which I found myself enthralled. Cooking lessons soon turned to alchemy lessons and with her help, I soon found myself brewing potions that the whole embassy took note of. While I continued to work in the kitchens with Tsavani, the embassy recruited me to brew potions for their cause. This ate up a lot of my spare time, but I happily stashed away the coin, saving it for my brother and I to use at a later date.

I was nervous to learn that for the first time in my life, my brother and I were to be separated. As his training was completed, he was ready to go on duty with the rest of the Thalmor. I was terrified, but at the same time I was immensely proud of my older brother. I thought that he was out doing a noble task. I was wrong.

My brother's return a few months later was not the joyous occasion that I thought it would be. I had been counting the days until his return. I was looking forward to showing him how good my destruction spells had become, and how a nice looking recruit had taken the time, regardless of my hand, and had taught me how to use a bow; but most of all I was excited to show him the stack of coins I had accumulated in his absence.

I rushed down the morning of his arrival ready to greet him with open arms. My heart skipped a beat as his carriage pulled up to the front gates. I blundered down the slippery stone steps and, forgetting the poise and grace in which my people were supposed to conduct themselves, ran and grasped him in a tight hug. He did not return it. I looked up into Ohpuis' face, and withdrew from him. He was pale and thin. His lips were cracked and white, and one of his eyes seemed gummed closed by a substance that I could not identify. A scar ran across his cheek over his ruined eyelids, disappearing into his arched brows. He gave me a small smile before following the rest of his troop into the barracks.

Ohpuis was a different man. While he indulged my company, he no longer engaged with me. I tried teasing him, but that was quickly met with a weak paralyze spell and a small smirk. He did however show enthusiasm for my new skills, but was muted and timid, and quite unlike my brother. Not even the bag of gold I presented him with garnered much of a reaction.

I begged him to tell me stories of his travels. I wanted to know of the people that he had met and the evil he had slayed, but every time I asked, it was met by silence.

A few weeks after his arrival, his eye had healed and had opened again. While his sight was not what it used to be, and his eye had turned a milky colour, he was deemed fit enough to return to duty. The morning of his departure he took me aside, placed his hands on my cheeks, and spoke to me properly for the first time since his return.

He told me to collect my things and the money that I had saved. He then instructed me to slip out of the Embassy when the moons were at their highest in the sky, and make my way west towards a place called Wolf Skull Cave. He kissed me on the forehead, and quickly turned and walked away from me, clambering into the carriage before I could say a word.

I did not question my brother. He had always looked after me, and I had faith that he would never do anything to put me in harm's way. Still, I was nervous and fearful, and any purpose behind his request would not make itself clear to me. I wracked my brain while laying in my cot that night, but no solution came.

I could see the moons through my window and when they had reached the height of their nightly climb, I slipped out of bed and grabbed my things. I slung my bow across my back and grabbed my coin purse. I stuffed it down the front of my robes and moved to the wooden door.

Sneaking from the kitchens was easy enough as Tsavani had rendered herself unconscious by snacking on moonsugar. I wish I could say I was shocked, but this had become a nightly occurrence and for the first time, a convenient one. Sneaking from the rest of the embassy proved to be a trickier task as many Justiciars and guards seemed to be perpetually patrolling the halls. I moved slow and as silently as I could manage, and found myself finally emerging into a courtyard.

I approached the wall and had started my attempt to climb when I heard a thunderous voice explode from somewhere behind me. It was the voice of Elenwen, the First Emissary and a woman who fills me with dread. I turned my head and to my great relief found that I had gone undiscovered.

She stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, her hands clenched into fists. Her voice was loud, shrill and unintelligible against the roar of the wind. Her anger was directed at a Justiciar who held his head low, accepting the verbal beating the woman was throwing with no resistance.

Not wanting to waste any more time and raise the likelihood of being discovered, I slung my arm over the wall and sunk my claws into the mortar. I easily pulled myself over the barrier and dropped down silently onto the snow below.

It was only a short walk to Wolf Skull Cave. Upon my arrival, I saw a man leaning against the mouth of the cave, his burly body dressed in little more than strips of leather held together with a few iron plates. I approached with curiosity, paying little heed to any possible danger.

As I appeared into his line of sight, the large Nord moved for his sword. I backtracked in horror. He rushed at me, obscenities pouring from his bearded lips as I froze to the spot. He stopped just before me. He drew his face close to mine and his thin lips parted to reveal rotted teeth. His breath was putrid and his face was caked in dirt and dry blood.

He asked me if I was from the Thalmor Embassy, to which I naively told the truth. His thick sausage-like fingers wrapped around my shoulders as he pulled his face closer before growling "Then you die".

I panicked as I struggled against his grip. He released my left side as he raised his steel sword high overhead. I closed my eyes in preparation of the blow, but it never came. Instead a noise the likes of which I had never heard rang through the trees shaking the very air that carried its tune. It was a howl – loud, powerful, and yet hauntingly sweet. The Nord loosened his grip on me as he glanced nervously over his shoulder in the direction of the noise.

That's when I felt it. A surge of adrenaline ran through my veins. I swiftly raised my arm and with my claws sprawled, sunk them into the Nord's soft flesh. Thick warm blood rushed over my claws, down my forearm and dripped onto the floor below. He shrieked in pain as his head snapped around, his eyes meeting mine before dropping to settle on my claws lodged in his breast. He moved to raise his sword, but my right hand filled with flames. I directed my firebolt squarely into his face. He bellowed in agony, dropping to his knees as I removed my claws before repeatedly slashing him until he hit the ground.

I staggered backwards from the mangled corpse, my eyes wide and my breath laboured. I had just killed... and it had felt good.

"Little sister!" came Ohpuis' voice from behind me. His mouth hung slack and his eyes were wide. He quickly smiled. "Good job. Bandits can be tricky."

I grinned. My brother was here and he was proud. I moved quickly to his side and he embraced me in a hug.

"We need to talk," he said his voice dropping low as he pulled me onto a rock.

Ohpuis voice dropped low and he hung his head. He explained to me the true motives of the Thalmor. It was then that I realized that I had truly lived a sheltered life. He told me of the Civil War, of the Empire and the Stormcloaks. He told me of the true task of the Justiciars, and of the great Nord hero Talos. He told me of the evils that the Thalmor commit, of the murders, the lies and the corruption, and most importantly, he told me of how he had escaped.

I sat with bated breath. The looks that the people of Solitude had cast upon us now made sense. Tsavani didn't work for the Thalmor... and neither did I. We were slaves. The Thalmor were not a moral high ground stamping out evil: They were a direct cause. They were not aiding the Empire – They were controlling it! The bandit's hostility made sense now...

I took my brother's hand. I stared out over Haafingar as the palest hint of sun kissed the sky. We had to move. I rose to my feet, my brother's hand firmly in my grasp, although his fingers slacked and fell away from mine. I heard a thud fall at my feet. I turned my gaze towards the ground and screamed at what I saw. Ohpuis lay crumpled in a heap, an elven arrow protruding from between his shoulder blades. Blood spilled from the wound drenching my boots and staining the snow a bright crimson.

Loud cries of "HERATIC!" erupted to my side. I turned and was faced with the sight of six hooded Thalmor, weapons drawn, and hands bursting with magic.

Anger welled up inside me. I screamed and ran at the bastards, claws drawn at my left and flames at my right. Tears stung my eyes as I threw myself at the small crowd, tearing and searing all who dared get in my way. An anger and ferociousness that I hadn't realized I had possessed burst from me as one by one the elves fell to my side. Anger clouded my better judgement as I fought with all my might. I had such fury that the world around me had dissipated leaving only the fight. Unfortunately, that left me open for retaliation.

I felt a white hot pain in my side as the final Justiciar thrust her elven sword into the soft flesh of my stomach. I felt the warm blood trickle down my side as my legs grew weak and my vision became blurred. I fell backwards slamming into the ground hard, all breath leaving me as my spine hit the snow. She pulled her sword from my gut and swiftly raised it above her head. I stared at her ready for what was about to come.

A large dark shape smashed into the Altmer flinging her effortlessly into the snow. I turned my head, barley conscious as I watched with a smile on my face as the beast turned its claws upon the elf, ripping her to shreds as she shrieked with terror. Its large hands moved through her chest like water, pulling her ribcage in two as if it were breaking bread. The beast thrust its jaws into her open chest cavity, tearing out her heart and devouring it.

I felt myself growing weaker by the second as more and more blood spilled from my side. Still I fought unconsciousness in order to marvel at the beast as it turned to face me. Its body was tall and muscular, with powerful arms and legs. Thick curved claws protruded from its fingers and toes, its jaws a mass of teeth and drool. Its face was that of a great wolf, one eye glowing gold and the other a gaping hole where an eye should be.

It approached me and sank its teeth into my neck. Instead of pain I felt a rush of power as the beast's saliva mixed with my blood. It pulled its teeth from my flesh and reared on its hind legs, a howl bellowing from vast, dripping jaws.

I felt my body lurch and grow as a power the likes of which I have never known flowed through my veins. I found the strength to rise to my feet. My limbs started to stretch as fur sprouted from my pores. My clothes stretched and tore causing pieces of fabric and my bow to fall to the ground. My coin purse burst from my person as my robes split in the front. Coins littered the ground.

The beast seemingly smiled as my form twisted and writhed. A howl burst from my newly formed jaws and it was then that I realized what the beast was. He was the werewolf, the Alpha, the leader of the pack. His bite had conveyed to me a gift that had surely saved me from death. I mourn for my brother and will forever more, but now I have the power to avenge him, and I know who I am. I do not have to be ashamed, and I cannot be naive. I am moon born.

I am Grizabellah.

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AUTHOR NOTES: This was written as a back-story for my online persona as Grizabellah on the Facebook page "The Werewolf Of Skyrim".

Some lore has been changed to fit with the persona's of the other admins. I am aware that lycanthropy is not contracted through a bite. The character of Alpha has been granted a gift from Hircine to convert members of the pack with a bite as is explained in his origin story (Available to read on the Facebook page).

I am not interested in critique on this one. Feel free to leave a review however telling me what you think of the story. I don't write in first person often, but felt it was in the best way to tell this story. This is more than likely the first and last time that I will be writing this character.

If anyone wants to give "The Werewolf Of Skyrim" a like, feel free to. I'd love it if some people would come and say hi.


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